Waking Up In Praxus
by Thalanee
Summary: If you go on a trip to Praxus, Cybertron's playground, you should be prepared for everything. Prowl of all bots knew that and yet he never would have thought that something like this would ever happen to him… Jazz x Prowl implied.


Waking Up In Praxus

Author: Thalanee

Day: 5 and 28

Prompt: "I didn't say it was your fault, I said I'm blaming you." And "The truth will out"

Verse: Movie-AU

Word Count: 1100 words

Rating: pg-13

Warnings: utter crack, for the sake of your poor keyboard and screen, do not eat or drink while reading this! A bit of swearing by the parties involved.

Disclaimer: Transformers don't belong to me, I only play with them.

Summary: If you go on a trip to Praxus, you should be prepared for everything. Prowl of all bots knew that and yet he never would have thought that something like this would ever happen to him… Jazz x Prowl implied.

Author's Notes: I turned the prompt this way and that and someday this popped into my head… You know how Praxus is always made a city of art and music? Well, I thought, glowing crystals mean flashy lights, race tracks mean risks and entertainment… Praxus is not a centre of art, it's the Cybertronian version of Vegas! XD That's why Prowl moved to stately and respectable Iacon ;P

Also inspired by an overactive imagination and Katy Perry's "Waking Up In Vegas". This will be posted in two parts.

Happy anniversary to one of the most awesome communities out there! ^^

oOoOoOo

Part I

oOoOoOo

The lights of the passing traffic flared briefly in the dim room before fading again, waking him from his peaceful slumber. With a contented sigh Prowl burrowed further into his pillow, marveling that anything on Cybertron could be so comfortable. Even as he drifted in a state between recharge and wakefulness he resolved to find out what kind of pillow this was so he might purchase one to take back with him to Iacon once their mission in Praxus was finished.

Calling their trip to Praxus a mission was ridiculous by all accounts. He had no idea why he of all bots had been sent, the only reason he could conceive of that would make sense was that he had been selected because he was Praxian himself and therefore less likely to stand out in a crowd. Other than that, there was no discernible reason why he should be the one to lead a recruiting mission of all things. It was known to all and sundry that Prowl was Not Good in a social setting, and recruiting was all about trying to talk to mecha and femmes, to convince them or find a way to get them to step up to the line and do what they were too afraid to do.

Presumably that was why Jazz had been sent along with him.

Personally Prowl suspected that either Optimus was out to punish him for some transgression he had committed in the most creative way imaginable, an option readily discounted because it was very much not in character for the new Prime, or, which was more likely, their leader hoped that getting the two officers to spend time together in a more or less peaceful setting would somehow improve their relationship.

Banishing the unwelcome reminder of the chaos and aggravation that awaited him in the world of the online and conscious, the usually dutiful and work- oriented tactician indulged himself in just lying there and dozing a little bit longer.

Who could fault him for that? Iacon might be the cultural hub of their world, but it was decidedly lacking in furniture made to accommodate those frame types with wings, rare as they were outside of Vos and Praxus. True physical comfort, especially in recharge had been out of his reach ever since he left Praxus… it begged the question why he had never bothered to order some furniture from Praxus and have it delivered to him in Iacon. Oh right, he had thought it to be an unnecessary indulgence. An oversight he would have to correct once he was back home.

Note to self, do not under any circumstances let Ratchet get a wind of this though, the "I told you so"s would never stop otherwise. Even in his drowsy state Prowl knew the medic would never let him live it down.

That taken care of he snuggled deeper into the pillow once more. Whatever it was made of, the manufacturer had managed to create a piece of the Well on Cybertron! It was wonderfully warm, but not so much as to be too hot, just the right temperature. The shape was exactly right too, making Prowl feel safe and contented with the pillow wrapped around him, almost as if he were being hugged close to someone, as if there were arms wrapped around him, supporting his wings. The impression was only intensified by the steady, musical pulse of a spark right next to his…

Say what?

Jolted to full awareness, Prowl's optics snapped open and their golden light dimly lit an unfamiliar room. Letting his optics sweep the room, he could see more and more of it thanks to the meager illumination of the outside world. In the coloured lights of whatever crystals were outside he saw two doorways, both closed. The both cheap and sparse furniture indicated a hotel room, but it was not the one assigned to him as part of his mission in Praxus. Wherever he was, this was a different part of the city.

How had he gotten here? And where exactly was 'here'?

Any further conscious thoughts were derailed however when hands on his body started moving, and Primus, they knew just where to touch to leave him strutless with relaxation. The purr had left his vocalizer before he could even think of keeping it muted, and his treacherous wings pressed into the hands stroking them in search of more of those wonderful touches.

"Well, someone's enjoying themselves," the pillow murmured.

Prowl froze in horror, the purr dying in his throat, as he recognized the voice.

It couldn't be.

It just couldn't. For the first time since he opened his optics he really looked at what, no who was lying next to him. And it was a mech, not a pillow, exactly as Prowl had dreaded once he was finally aware enough to notice the field, not to mention the spark pulse of another being so very close. Because the surface his head was resting on was the other's shoulder and the pillow he was snuggling his chassis. How had he ended up like this? And with _him_, no less! Almost dreading what he would find, Prowl looked upward into the face of the mech holding him close.

To find his worst fears affirmed when he saw well known silver faceplates, adorned with a blue visor so dark it was almost black, though still offline, and a grin he was more familiar with than he would like.

"_Slag_."

oOoOoOo

I know this first part is kind of short, but the second part will be much longer, I promise! So what do you guys think?


End file.
